Harry Potter and the Magical Tours

Harry Potter sat in the Weasley kitchen, holding a glossy brochure in his hands. The cover page showed a family: two adults, three children, and lots of luggage. Considering their clothes, these were undeniably wizards. They looked happy and were smiling as if they'd been drugged. Above their heads, a large sign read "Magical Tours." Astonishingly, nothing in the scene was moving in the slightest.

But then, this was no more astonishing than the scene around Harry.

To begin with, he was at The Burrow, the home of the Weasley family. It would be correct to call The Burrow Harry's home, too, except that for him, the time spent here hadn't been enough yet to think in such terms.

A few weeks ago, Arthur and Molly Weasley had come to Hogwarts for matters concerning their dead son Charlie. They'd used the sad opportunity for something good - they'd offered Harry a place in their midst. Four days ago, the Hogwarts Express had arrived at King's Cross, and only gradually had the feeling in Harry settled to something like being at home.

Other people had been quicker.

Ginny, who was sittingt on his right, had immediately started treating him as a brother. Maybe a special one - for example, one who wouldn't tease her, at least not seriously. Harry lacked any experience with this kind of relationship. Yes, a few months ago, he and Almyra had begun thinking of each other as brother and sister in spirit, but this was something totally different.

One of the differences was that Ginny contributed with more than spirit, so to speak.

Daily life close to each other, especially as close as in such a small house, had its own moments. The day before, Harry had met Ginny on her way back from the bathroom, giving him the opportunity to see her dressed in underwear and nothing else. The only embarrassment had been on his side, although he couldn't but notice in this short moment - her movements as she passed him were slightly provocative, her expression somewhere between casual and innocent.

Ron, sitting opposite Harry, seemed unchanged, though only to the outside. Maybe it had to do with the different atmosphere here in The Burrow. At any rate, Ron's conversations with Harry felt more intimate, with more thoughts shared. Basically, this was nothing new, but at Hogwarts, they'd have that kind of conversation twice a year while here - at home - Ron could talk about issues as sensitive as his relationship to Janine, or Harry's to Cho, as soon as they'd found a minute alone.

And then there was Mrs Weasley - Ma Weasley - who was working at the sink. Harry had started addressing her that way at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, with the effect exactly as predicted by Ron: she was putty in Harry's hands, or would have been if not for his sense of justice, or for the fact that perfectly normal treatment already felt like heaven.

Not that Ma Weasley could treat him perfectly normally, by no means. She had as much difficulty getting used to this state as Harry himself, and was gradually regaining a normal behaviour, helped by a gentle teasing every now and then from her two children still in the household.

The twins' remarks would have been sharper, but Fred and George had moved out on the second day. Since then, they were working around the clock to get their business running. They planned to open their shop, Swashbuckle Sweets, within the next two weeks. The rent for a shop even in a side street of Diagon Alley was so high that every day without paying customers burned an unpleasant hole in their budget.

Two weeks ... Harry would not be around to visit them on the opening day, because three days from now, he was expected to meet a Zen master in Japan.

And this was the reason for the glossy brochure in his hands.

---

When discussing Harry's journey the other day, Arthur Weasley had mentioned a company called Magical Tours Ltd. The company offered travelling services, especially for long-distance journeys on which traditional individual techniques like Floo powder didn't work well. Magical Tours hadn't invented anything new; they simply used common techniques, but offered a worldwide network of travel routes based on portkey links.

Earlier, Harry had pondered the idea of using Muggle technology, meaning an aeroplane - until Arthur Weasley had told him that Muggles wouldn't take well to a passenger with a snake around his body. This argument killed any such idea on the spot.

Travelling without Nagini, once Voldemort's snake and since the Battle of Hogwarts Harry's devoted companion, was out of discussion. Putting her in any of those boxes the Muggle airlines considered appropriate for pet animals wasn't an option either; to Harry, Nagini was a partner, not a pet. She could sense magic, she could distinguish lies from the truth, and probably had other skills he hadn't detected yet in the few weeks of their companionship. Travelling without her would feel like travelling without his wand.

Ginny said, "Why does such a big company use such cheap stuff?" She was looking at the brochure made Muggle-style: not parchment but paper, the pictures unmoving, not the least bit magic in it.

"It's mass-production," answered Harry. "They place it everywhere and send it everywhere. That's the Muggle way of advertising. With parchment and magical pictures, it would be too expensive."

Ron said, "I bet those people in there couldn't hold their stupid grins a moment longer."

Remembering real Muggle advertisements, Harry laughed. "They could - there's quite an industry of people earning lots of money for smiling all day long."

"Sounds interesting," said Ginny, looking thoughtful.

Mrs Weasley shot a sharp glance at her, but kept silent. This was something new, too; the past few days had included several lessons of how to deal best with her children. Ron, but still more Ginny, had aged by another year as much as by drastic events, including the death of their second-oldest brother Charlie.

Ron looked at his sister. "Are you serious? Grinning into a camera all the time and holding awkward poses?"

"Why not? It's no worse than writing parchments all the time and giving awkward speeches."

Ron turned to Harry. "Tell her - you're the Muggle expert."

Which wasn't even half true. However, the native Weasleys had developed a habit of using Harry as a kind of arbiter, projecting a view of 'Weasley neutrality' into him - something he couldn't find anywhere inside himself.

"Think twice," said Harry. "Fleur, for example - she could start a modelling career tomorrow, considering her looks. But the thought never crossed her mind."

"Maybe that's the problem," replied Ginny. "Or she's just too rich. Harry, what are the chances for a model with red hair and freckles?"

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't matter - they need all kinds of colours, and figures, and faces. But to make real money, you have to be at the top level."

"What's needed to reach the top level?"

Ron was fastest. "Bigger titties."

"Ron!" Mrs Weasley looked indignant.

Without impressing Ron much. "Sorry," he said, "but it's the truth, and I'm just trying to show her what a crazy idea this is."

Ginny wasn't intimidated either. "Harry, what's your opinion?"

For a split second, the picture of Ginny in shirt and panties came up in Harry's memory. He didn't agree with Ron, but had no intention of discussing the issue, whether now or in the near future.

"It changes with the fashion," he explained, slightly blushing. "One year, they have to be big, the next year, the models have to be as flat as an ironing board. It's only if you're at the real top that it doesn't matter."

Mrs Weasley glanced at him. "My dear, it's amazing how well-informed you are about this issue."

Ron was grinning diabolically, while Ginny seemed seriously interested in Harry's answer.

Harry looked at Ma Weasley while answering. "If you knew about the newspapers and magazines in the Dursley household, you wouldn't wonder."

The keyword Dursley was always good to kill an issue in conversation. Nobody seemed to notice that the last magazines Harry might have read in Privet Drive would date back two years: on his last vacation, Patronus training had prevented his access to such literature even more than tense relations with the subscribers had.

---

"Whatever," said Mrs Weasley. "I thought you were going to figure out your travelling route."

Harry browsed through the brochure. "Magical Business Tours" was the standard program the company offered, with daily connections to the major capitals around the globe. Scanning the list, he found an entry "London-Tokyo." Next instant, he swallowed - two-hundred and twenty galleons!

"Tokyo is a standard business link. Now let's see how to travel from there on."

The Zen master lived in the south of Japan, with Fukuoka as the closest large city. To Harry's dismay, Fukuoka didn't appear in the business part.

He scanned further. "Magical Mystery Tours" was their second program, designed for vacations, families, and people who liked to be surprised by the destination they reached. Connection links were beyond the scope of this brochure.

At the bottom, Harry found some addresses listed. There was a tourist office in a side street of Diagon Alley, and there was of course the new building in the suburbs of London - "London Linkport", as the paper called it.

Harry dropped the brochure. "I think we have to visit their tourist office - this thing doesn't explain how to travel from Tokyo to the south of Japan."

Ron's eyes lit up. A visit to Diagon Alley, without the pressure of buying school books, cauldrons, and nasty Potions ingredients, had an enormous appeal: Ron had come across fifteen hundred galleons recently, and obviously some of this money was burning Ron's pockets.

"Oh yes," called Ginny, "That'd be super."

"Who said you were coming with us?"

Suppressing a grin, Harry watched Ginny glance at her brother. Ron had tried to sound annoyed, but he wasn't pokerface Bob: his voice left little doubt that he liked the idea of treating his young sister to a shopping tour almost as much as Ginny herself. All she had to do was play her cards properly.

Suddenly with the eyes and the voice of a small girl, she asked, "Harry - didn't you say so?"

"Well, yes ..."

Ginny beamed at him.

"... especially as I have a strong feeling that Ron'll need some professional - that is, female - advice in one shop or another. I mean, someone to represent the taste of a girl" - Harry looked at Ginny as if examining her - "maybe a bit older than you ..."

Ginny grinned, "... but also with red hair ..."

"Right, only less British, more - er ..."

"French ..."

"Exactly, and for a small fee ..."

Ron had followed the exchange with pleasure. "I can see it already - if we're lucky, we might find the time to visit that tourist office."

Mrs Weasley showed mixed feelings; she wasn't used to the habit of spending money for luxury items - not yet and maybe never. "You shouldn't spoil her too much," she said.

"Don't tell me," replied Harry, "because for me it's the last opportunity for several weeks."

Ginny was listening with delight, while Mrs Weasley seemed less pleased - probably from the mentioning of Harry's departure. She asked, "By the way - who's paying for your journey?"

Harry realized that the issue hadn't come up in the few minutes of his conversation with Lupin. "I guess I'll pay for it myself," he said. "After all, it's a private training seminar ... has nothing to do with Hogwarts."

"That - um, Zen master," Mrs Weasley seemed to chew on her words, "what's he asking? How much - "

"Oh - nothing. Lupin said, this is some kind of test training - like an exam. He's not going to be paid."

"So - if you fail, or don't qualify, or whatever, that's it?"

"Yes, Ma Weasley."

"And if not?"

"Dunno ..." Seeing Ma Weasley's expression, Harry decided to keep his expectations to himself and stick with the dry facts. "All I know is that I'll be back after four weeks, and I'm expected back at Hogwarts a week later."

* * *

Next day, early in the afternoon, three pinches of Floo powder carried them downtown. They used the chimney in the twins' shop as their destination, so they could say hello to Fred and George before quickly leaving the messy place with old garbage in one corner, piles of new items in another, and dust everywhere.

Coming out, they stood at Crescent Square, the intersection of Diagon Alley and Perico Lane.

"What first?" asked Ron.

"The tourist office," said Harry. "Once I know how to travel, I'll be more open to other things."

They walked down Diagon Alley. Harry felt wonderful as he found himself strolling side by side with friends who were almost like brother and sister, with money in his pockets, the shops so inviting, the weather magnificent ... Maybe a little hot.

Very hot, actually - by the time they'd reached the Magical Tours office, they were sweating. Wizard robes felt more comfortable inside the thick walls of Hogwarts.

The air inside the office was significantly cooler. They'd barely entered when a young woman came to the desk. She was dressed in something like the wizard version of a uniform, definitely more suited to the hot weather. Giving the newcomers a perfunctory smile, she said, "Good afternoon. What can I do for you?"

Harry placed the brochure on the desk. "I was trying to figure out a travel route, but this paper wasn't detailed enough."

"Certainly not, young man. These are just the major links in our intercontinental network."

Harry said nothing.

After a second, the woman asked, "What destination did you have in mind?"

"Japan ... Fukuoka."

The Magical Tours clerk performed a magical transformation. Suddenly, her smile was stronger, her voice very attentive. "Oh - yes, sir, of course. Let me see - er, would you like to sit down, sir?"

They would.

While scanning through lists, the woman was making notes on a piece of paper - Harry noticed thee was in fact no parchment whatsoever in the office. After a while, the woman returned with the paper and sat down opposite him.

"Here we are, sir. Your first leg goes from London Linkport to Tokyo. There you'll find a direct connection to Osaka in the south, and from there to Fukuoka - so far, always with portkey links. Sir, is Fukuoka your final destination?

"No, but I didn't expect to find a link for the last - um, leg."

The woman seemed pleased at Harry's usage of the professional terminology. "That's probably true, sir - however, our services also include those of a normal travel agency. So, if you tell me your final destination, I'll try to offer a complete travel route in one package."

"It's Ishida - a town on the island of Iki."

"Just a second, sir." The woman marched to the back of the room, where she took a wand from a drawer and aimed it toward an empty wall. Next moment, a world map appeared at the wall. She pointed the wand toward the Japanese islands and murmured something. The world map disappeared and was replaced by a map of Japan. With another murmur, a third map appeared which showed Kyushu, the southern island, with Fukuoka in the north and the small island of Iki above, about forty miles across the Strait of Tsushima.

"That's it," whispered Ron. "That's what we need in the office."

The woman returned with another piece of paper. "We're lucky, sir. There's a ferry from Fukuoka to Iki, and it just goes to Ishida."

This wasn't too surprising, as the small island held only two larger harbours, Harry's destination and Katsumoto.

"Now for the times, sir. The evening ferry clears port at six o'clock local time, which means you should reach Fukuoka Linkport no later than five o'clock. So, taking into account some delay between Tokyo and Fukuoka, plus the time difference, it all fits nicely in one day when you take our morning link - seven o'clock, sir."

"Yes, the time difference ... How much is it?"

"Nine hours ahead, sir - when stepping through the gate at seven a.m. here in London, you'll come out at four p.m. in Tokyo."

Nine hours lost ... Well, four weeks from now, he would get them back.

"Sir, do you have experience with portkey links?"

"Yes, I do - "

Harry hadn't finished his reply yet when he became aware that his jumps so far had been comparably short. He asked, "Is there any difference between shorter and longer distances?"

"No, sir, not for the passenger. The short moment of disorientation isn't an indicator for the distance passed."

"Well, then ..."

"What day did you have in mind for your travel, sir?"

"Day after tomorrow."

"Oh - that's very short notice, sir." The woman presented an expression of professional concern. "Although I'm sure that I can reserve your tickets for the planned times if you book now."

Harry would have liked to hear Nagini's comment on that. Presenting a truth as something likely to change soon - would his snake call it a lie? Whatever; booking now was exactly what he'd had in mind.

Which left one question. "How much is it all together?"

The woman looked at her papers, calculating. "Three hundred and forty galleons, sir - from London Linkport to Ishida Ferryport."

"All right, I'll take it."

"Very well, sir." The woman beamed.

From Uncle Vernon and his endless dronings, Harry knew enough about Muggle sales techniques to guess that the woman's salary benefitted from each contract. For wizard companies, however, it was highly unusual.

The woman returned with another sheet of paper. "Sir, would you please fill in your name and address, and the method of payment." She had a quill ready.

Harry wrote his name, then almost had to ask for another sheet, after almost filling in Privet Drive as his address. Under "Payment," he found two entries - "Cash" and "Bank Order."

It didn't tell him anything. "Bank Order - how does that work?"

"You sign an order form that specifies the sum, sir - that's all. I take it you have an account at Gringotts, sir?"

"Yes." He checked the box beneath Bank Order. "Okay."

"Thank you very much, sir." The woman scanned the form, then looked up, smiling. "Mr Potter - a very famous name, sir, except ..." The smile faded while her eyes were transfixed on Harry's forehead. "I'm sorry, sir - I didn't ... I wasn't ..."

"Never mind - I'm trying to pass through unnoticed."

"Yes, of course ... Certainly, sir."

With pinkish cheeks, the woman walked to a desk, put the sheet into a slot, and pressed a button. A second later, something like a pencil jumped up and started to move over a paper booklet, touching the surface in a rapid staccato, like the beak of a woodpecker.

Fascinated, Ron stared at the device. "What's this?"

The woman seemed glad to talk about something harmless. "A hammer pen, sir ... It can handle up to ten carbon copies on a ticket form - very convenient for travelling tickets."

Some minutes later, she came back with the booklet. "This is your ticket, Mr Potter - one sheet at each station. Please arrive at London Linkport no later than a quarter to seven. And here's the bank order, if you would sign it, please."

This form, too, had been written by the hammer pen. Harry and Ron examined the writing - each letter and each digit was formed from a series of small dots.

He signed.

"Thank you, Mr Potter. Have a good trip, and a nice afternoon."

---

Ron and Ginny managed to pass through the door before they started to laugh. Ron mimicked, "Mr Potter - a very nameous fame, sir, except it's the other way around."

"Save it. Let's find something to drink."

They found an ice cream parlour, and the ice cones in the magical picture looked just too good, so they ordered three huge cups of ice cream in addition to their drinks - the biggest glasses of lemon soda in the store.

Ginny asked, "Harry, what else do you need for the journey, or for your visit?"

"As if I knew ... a lighter robe, or I'll be dried up by the time I reach that port."

"That woman's dress ... without the uniform style, but short-sleeved, and light - "

Ron glanced at his sister. "Whose wardrobe are you talking about? Harry's or yours?"

Ginny glanced back. "Or yours?"

"She's right," said Harry. "We all need summer dresses."

Halprin & Myerson, "Finest Wizard Clothes," was just up the street.

They came out an hour later.

In spite of all the bags and parcels to carry, they felt considerably lighter, as they'd put on the new clothes and stored the old ones in the bags. And of course, their pockets felt lighter, too.

Harry wondered if the old robes would ever see daylight again, as worn-out as they looked. However, it would be difficult enough to return with them to Ma Weasley. But then, their shopping had developed in a very natural sequence - first the summer robes, then realizing that the trousers simply didn't match, and the same with the shoes ... same with Ginny ...

To be honest, she'd been the quickest. After Harry and Ron had changed from head to feet, she'd asked, "Done?" with some anxiousness in her face, and Harry had answered, "On this floor, yes. Now it's your turn."

It became another new experience for him - standing between racks of women's clothes, waiting for Ginny to appear from a cubicle, to parade up and down, examining herself in the mirror, asking for his comments while ignoring those from the mirror because they were too prejudiced and found everything magnificent, especially if it was expensive. However, Harry's own judgments weren't that different.

At the cash register, Ron tried to push Harry away, muttering something like, "... my sister, not yours."

But Harry had known in advance and had used the time to prepare. "It's up to you, Ron," he said. "Either we split, or I'm going to start another shopping round with her, all over again."

"That's blackmailing!"

"Really?" Harry touched his temples in a bad imitation of thinking. "Yeah, right, that rings a bell, wasn't there a corridor in Hogwarts? Some evening or other ..."

Ginny looked from one to the other. "What are you talking about?"

Harry stared at Ron. "Shall I tell her? One ... two ..."

Ron gave in. Ginny looked relieved with the agreement, but at the same time disappointed because she wasn't going to hear the story.

Then they bought a guidebook about Japanese habits and culture; Harry wanted to invest a minimum of preparation in the unknown country of Japan. The best they could find at Flourish and Blotts was a travelling guide, which had a lot to say about the proper behaviour in restaurants and shops. At least the book included a short introduction to the Japanese view of things.

Just in time, Harry and Ron remembered what they'd been missing badly at The Burrow - a Go set, board and stones. Alas, to their deep disappointment, Gambol and Japes didn't offer them. Chess sets, yes - any size and price, but Go? Maybe in a Muggle store.

Harry decided to have a look in Japan. According to Cho's descriptions, Go sets should be found there on each corner.

---

Now, walking toward Crescent Square, examining the bags in his hands, Ron's expression turned somewhat gloomy. "Mum's going to kill us."

Even Ginny didn't look as happy as she had a few minutes earlier.

"No," said Harry, "because we'll bribe her. Ginny, what did she always want but never had the money for? Something personal, not a household item."

"Household items are personal for Mum. But I know what you mean."

A few minutes later, Harry was carrying another box with six delicate wine glasses. He also carried the duty of giving them to Ma Weasley - as soon as possible after entering The Burrow.

Harry stared at the box. "I don't think chimney travel is a good idea with these glasses."

"Oh my God!" Ginny looked horrified. "With these clothes - I'm not going to ruin them in there."

All the new items were white, light khaki, or cream-coloured: chimney soot would look just great on them.

Ron was perplexed. "And how do you think we'll return home? Walking?"

Ginny seemed ready, should this method be the only solution.

"The Knight Bus," said Harry.

For him, the expert bus traveller, it was fun watching Ron and Ginny while the Knight Bus drove at neckbreak speed through the streets ... more or less, that was, forcing aside every lamp post, car, tree, or house that blocked the path.

As much as they'd enjoyed the ride, it hadn't done anything to soothe their nerves. Reaching the entrance of The Burrow, Ron and Ginny looked definitely scared.

"Okay," said Harry, "this is the moment of truth." He opened the door and glanced in.

There were sounds from the kitchen, then steps. Mrs Weasley appeared in the door frame. "Where are you coming fro - "

She stared, first at Harry, then at the two people behind him.

"We took the Knight Bus, Ma Weasley - you see, we've been shopping, and we didn't want to risk getting dirty, or breaking this - it's for you, Ma."

Was it the magic formula? The present? In Harry's opinion, it was the result of a full-scale attack, not unlike what had hit the Dark Forces in the Battle of Hogwarts - at any rate, Mrs Weasley didn't know where to look first, what to say next. She examined the new clothes, touching here and testing there.

"Well," she said finally, "I have to admit - you three can be sent shopping. It's all first quality; nothing flimsy or poorly stitched."

The full impact of her children's broadside became apparent only later in the evening, after Arthur Weasley had returned from the Ministry. When he admired the outfits and found they looked great, his wife asked whether he could manage an afternoon off from the office.

"Probably, dear - why?"

Her face slightly flushed, Mrs Weasley said, "To go shopping, so we can present ourselves next to our children."

* * *

Harry sat in his room, reading in the guidebook about the wa, the harmony every Japanese was always eager to keep, or to reach, and not to lose again. According to what he understood, his familiarity with Giant culture would be a help; the importance of behaviour was nothing new, although the Japanese seemed considerably less flexible toward strangers - gaijin, as they were called.

He dropped the book and thought about Lleyrin the Fist, the Giant chief, and how naturally Lleyrin had balanced the little flaws and mistakes in Harry's behaviour, without ever losing his wa - which he'd earned the hard way, as his trick story had unraveled over the months.

There was a knock at the door, and Harry started from the unexpected sound. "Come in."

A head appeared in the doorway to peek in - Ginny.

The sight made him smile. "Hello, gaijin."

"Huh?"

He showed her the book. "Here - I'm reading about Japan. A gaijin is a redhead - that's their term for westerners, although it's not polite to say so."

"Oh, okay. How do you feel about this journey?"

"I don't know ... I'm looking forward to it, only, I was just getting used to be here. Like now, just this moment - I'm sitting here in this room, and you come in, and everybody thinks it's perfectly normal. For me, it isn't normal yet ..."

Ginny kept looking around, touching things here and there, showing all the signs of someone in searching for the right words. Eventually, she said, "Harry ... I wanted to thank you for, er, for the afternoon and - "

From the corner came a short hiss.

Ginny started, then looked at Nagini, who was lying calmly, staring at her.

Harry grinned. "Nagini just told me it's not true - and besides, you did that already in Diagon Alley. Why don't you sit down and tell me what's on your mind?"

A pinkish Ginny slumped down on a chair. "I forgot - about Nagini, I mean. Yes, I came to talk about something else - I would have waited a few days more, but you'll be leaving soon, so ..." Her fingers continued to make small girl's movements.

Finally, she looked up. "You're the only one I can talk to about this. I'm not short of older brothers for sure, but - with you, it's different, for some reason ..."

Harry had a hunch. "So far, it sounds like something I would discuss with Fleur - with her, I can talk about things I can talk about with nobody else."

Ginny looked grateful. "Yes, it's something like that."

"Then go ahead ... The first words are the hardest."

She nodded. "How ... how is it between you and Cho?"

"We love each other. Since the end-of-year feast, it's public knowledge, so what do you mean in particular?"

"Is it serious?"

"Yes. Dead serious."

Ginny knew already - she had to, after the power Harry and Cho's love had shown against Voldemort. So her questions were still part of the opening.

"And how did it start?"

"The first time I saw her - at a Quidditch match, except that then, I didn't know yet, of course, at that age. But I was thinking a lot about her, about that feeling."

Ginny grinned. "And I was around, turning red at every opportunity."

"Yes - although that's been your problem more than mine."

This remark seemed a good opportunity for starting the real conversation, if Harry's feeling was right, and in a way, he had chosen his words to that intent.

But Ginny didn't take the bait. "And when ..."

"... did I know for sure?"

Ginny nodded.

"I can tell you when I confessed it, first to myself, and then to her - but afterwards, thinking about it, I realized that the knowledge must have been older. It was during Lupin's imprisonment."

Seeing her expression, and remembering a similar situation with another Weasley, Harry told Ginny what had happened in the staircase and afterwards. He finished, "By the way, I told Ron this story not so long ago, when he was trying to figure out how to - er, get things rolling."

To Harry, this remark seemed the closest thing to an open invitation, except that Ginny took the opportunity to sort out a bit more. She asked, "Ron and Janine - do you think it's serious, too?"

"Nobody knows but them - although, considering what I saw at Beauxbatons and the next day at the Delacour castle ..." Harry smiled. "Imagine, we found those Omniair Twenty-Seven DS in the stable, those family broomsticks, and not even this news could take him away from her side."

Ginny nodded - to her as well, such a behaviour was proof beyond any reasonable doubt.

---

Harry decided to take the initiative. "And how are things between you and Grigorij?"

A sigh. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"What do you think of him?"

"I like him. He's nice, he looks good - it's fun with him, everthing's fine, in a way - "

"Except it's not the great love?"

Ginny sighed again. "That's what I'm afraid of."

"Do you miss him? Now?"

"Hmm ..." Ginny glanced toward the snake in the corner. "No - a few days without him are fine as well."

"Then you know already, don't you?"

Maybe so. "Do you miss Cho?"

"Yes. Not every minute of every day - not right at the moment, but ..."

"Well, then ... Yes, I think I know."

Harry tried to read Ginny's face. "Then what's the problem?"

"Maybe nothing ... Knowing I don't love him, what do you think should I do?"

Harry didn't understand.

"Perhaps I should ask what I should not do." She wasn't looking at him; even so, her cheeks were darkening.

A second later, finally understanding the question, Harry was sure his own cheeks didn't look much different. "If you're talking about what I think you're talking about - all I can say, you're asking a blind man about colours."

"Oh ... I thought ..."

He shook his head. "No."

Ginny made a sound, cleared her throat, tried again. "Why not?"

"Blimey, Ginny, it's ... I'm barely used to kissing Cho in public! Everything was happening so fast - maybe it was the lack of opportunity, or maybe I'm just a bit slow - "

Now she looked at him, disbelief on her face. "Slow? You're the fastest person I know - you can make decisions in a split second."

He felt extremely pleased. "Thank you - but I think that's only true in critical situations, but ... At least, for these things, it was hard training." He chuckled. "It was Fleur who decided on the day when I had to ask Cho to the ball. But since then, things have improved."

"That's what I mean - once you're sure about something. My problem is, I'm not sure at all."

"Well - to give you an answer, I guess I have to combine what Fleur said on one occasion or another with my own limited knowledge, for what it's worth ..."

Ginny looked at him expectantly. "Yes, please."

"What I can say is, find out what you want. You alone - not Grigorij, not your parents, or your friends at Hogwarts. Once you've found it, you'll recognize it immediately - this feeling of certainty, it's unmistakable ... Actually, that's Zen."

"And then?"

"Then do it, or find a way to do it ... which, in this case, shouldn't be too complicated, one way or the other."

Ginny giggled.

"Otherwise - Fleur says, the British conventions about the proper age for - er, some things are totally unrealistic. She says, if you can do something, you're old enough for it ... Well, for more details, you might ask her yourself."

"If it weren't for the first time ..."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean ... Fleur says, a young man should look for an older woman as a teacher, and a young girl for an older man - except that only the French think this is a reasonable way."

Ginny was able to meet his eyes again. "That sounds reasonable, better than ..." A grin appeared on her face. "Maybe you should follow that advice, too, Harry."

He grinned back. "Yes, maybe - except, where to find her, and how to keep it secret so Cho won't find out - although, for all I know, the Chinese also think this is the best way to learn."

"Didn't you say Zen is about ways and goals? Well, so - use Zen, Harry."

* * *

In reaction to Harry's announcement of his training seminar, Ron had promised to help the twins - at least until the opening, maybe the full four weeks of Harry's absence. The help wouldn't come for free; Ron's intention was to make some money, and the twins had agreed. It looked like good business for both sides - Ron's job had to do with bookkeeping rather than working in the mud, and, best of all, especially for his salary, he'd brought the writer quill with him.

So Ron left early the next day, while Harry and Ginny kept to the habit of the previous days: sleeping late, starting the day slowly.

After lunch, Harry decided to visit his godfather, Sirius Black, commander of the Law Enforcement Squad. Sirius had earned this rank and position in the course of the political landslide after the Battle of Hogwarts. It would be interesting to see whether Sirius had adjusted to his new environment quicker than Harry to his own.

Ginny found this a good idea and expanded it to a visit of several locations in the Ministry: her father, Percy, and Sirius, so she and Harry had to do it together, provided they would take the Knight Bus.

The Knight Bus had been Harry's intention anyway. He knew already that Floo powder would never be his favourite way of travelling. And Ginny's company was a nice change of the plan.

Mrs Weasley seemed pleased with the idea, too; at least she didn't complain about the waste of money. But then, maybe Floo powder was more expensive than Harry thought.

The Ministry of Magic presented itself as an impressive complex of buildings - from the outside. Inside, they found a maze of dirty corridors, lined with an endless number of rooms, probably with additional rooms hidden behind trick entrances, the same architecture as in Hogwarts. It looked very mysterious and very inefficient.

Harry was reminded of Ron's future plans - introducing some Muggle technology to the wizarding world - and he knew instantaneously that the fiercest resistance would come from these halls. Anybody thinking like Ron would have left the Ministry long ago - well, maybe with some notable exceptions.

Percy was not one of them. To find him, meaning the Department of International Magical Co-operation, turned out to be a major task and took quite a while, actually longer than the visit itself.

They said hello, then Ginny told her surprised brother they were passing by on the way to their father, then Percy mumbled how nice, unfortunately he was in quite a hurry for his next meeting, and they finished with a goodbye before leaving quickly, apparently with the same feelings of relief on either side of the closing door.

Harry said, "He hasn't changed a bit, has he?"

"No, not at all ... This visit was a mistake."

"I don't think it was - he'll never complain he wasn't getting his share of attention. Whenever I visit Sirius here, I'll know for sure that at that very moment Percy's in a hurry for his next meeting."

"Yeah ..." Ginny grimaced. "Anyway - let's find Dad."

The Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office occupied significantly more space, which didn't mean it was easier to find. However, as Harry walked down the corridor to Mr Weasley's office, for the first time in this nightmarish building he found an atmosphere of activity and determination.

Arthur Weasley looked pleased to see them. There was little doubt he'd been busy with some complicated matter; still, he found the time to offer a cup of tea and an explanation of his current task.

"It's an investigation," he explained, "and, coincidentally, Harry, it's that Magical Tours company."

Harry said, "I wouldn't be surprised - they seem to use every trick to make their business simpler ... What artefacts are they suspected of using?"

"Competutors - recently, the Muggles build them so small, it's difficult to find them."

"Really?"

Harry tried to figure out whether he should tell Mr Weasley the proper term - computers - then decided against it. Arthur Weasley, always eager to collect knowledge of the Muggle world, probably wouldn't mind, but it felt just so impolite ... perhaps a side-effect from reading too much about Japanase conventions.

---

Armed with the description of a clever shortcut to the Enforcement Squad floor, and with greetings for Sirius, they left fifteen minutes later.

"It's strange," said Harry, "your father has to prevent exactly what Ron's planning to do later - bring in Muggle technology. But I'm sure that he'd be more than happy if his office was ordered to do just the opposite - select useful Muggle stuff."

Ginny sighed. "He would even start over as the last clerk in such a department. Sometimes I wish he was a little more ambitious - although right now it doesn't matter, not for a while."

Harry kept silent. Money in general, the recently earned money in particular, and most of all its true origin were all delicate issues in the Weasley household, especially here in this building where the walls might have ears in totally unexpected places.

They found the shortcut as described, and it worked as predicted - Arthur Weasley was a living example for the differences between ambitious and efficient. They came out directly in front of a small office whose door stood open.

Entering, they found a woman who sat behind a piece of furniture that looked like a combination of desk and counter, surprisingly modern and good-looking in this environment.

The same was true for the woman. Harry guessed her age at somewhere around thirty, give or take as much as required to compensate for his little experience in guessing, and for her obvious expertise in proper dressing and polished appearance: dark blonde hair over a robe as short-sleeved as their own, lacking the uniform style they'd seen yesterday, especially as it was quite thin.

A sign on a triangular piece of wood told them her name: Belinda McGraw. She looked expectantly at the intruders. "Good afternoon - may I help you?"

"Yes, please. We'd like to see Sirius - er, Mr Black."

"Indeed. Do you have an appointment, sir?"

Sir? Was it well-cared politeness, or a nice way to tease him a bit? According to the look in her eyes, it felt more like the latter. But at least, thought Harry, she wasn't calling him young man.

Aloud, he said, "No, it's kind of a surprise."

"Yes, of course."

Now he felt sure she was having fun. The dark blonde head tilted to something that was shaped like a horn. "Chief?"

The horn issued a grumbling sound.

"There are two visitors here who'd like to see you. A handsome young man, calls you Sirius, and a young lady with a dazzling mop of red hair."

The horn issued a squeak and a rattle.

The woman stood up, smiling. "Miss Weasley?"

Ginny nodded, staring admiringly at the woman.

"And Mr Potter - nice to meet you. Sirius - er, Mr Black is waiting for - "

Another door opened. Sirius appeared, his eyes sparkling. "Harry, great to see you here. And Ginny - what a welcome surprise." Sirius hugged Harry, shook hands with Ginny, and beamed. "You look gorgeous - both of you."

Ginny beamed back, now admiring Sirius.

Harry did the same, and for good reason. Sirius' hair was trimmed short, his complexion healthier than Harry could remember, his clothes civilian, suited to the season, still with a military touch - an impressive appearance.

Pulling Harry with him, Sirius turned to the woman. "Bel, here he is, the one who's done more for the Squad and for myself than we can ever pay back. Think of him as a Squad member - with his snake and her abilities too, we might appoint him some day soon."

The woman looked at Harry, now with a warm smile. "I have to thank you, Mr Potter, because - "

Sirius interrupted her. "C'mon, cut it. Bel, meet Harry. Harry, this is Belinda, the best that could happen to the Squad, me included ..."

For a fleeting instant, the woman's eyes were widening. Before Harry could consider this particular choice of words, Sirius spoke again.

"... and this is Ginny, of Harry's new family, and the living sign that Arthur has improved a lot after Percy."

Sirius looked satisfied at the reaction to his remark.

In Sirius' office, Harry and Ginny accepted a soda each, extracted from a refrigerator which seemed out of place in this room with its heavy desk and deep chairs. Harry asked, "How's your work?"

"Pretty quiet, currently. Summer break - gives us time to hunt the last of the three Firebolt riders, and to clean up some other things."

"And here in the Ministry?"

Grinning, Sirius looked at the door they'd just passed through. "Couldn't be better, as you've seen. I followed the example of your Squad team, Harry."

Feigning astonishment, Harry said, "I didn't see any Steel Wings around."

"Well ..." Sirius didn't fall for the trap. "Before this conversation gets out of hand," he said, "let me ask you about your journey - everything settled?"

"Yes, from here to the island."

"How are you going to travel?"

"With Magical Tours."

"Oh - them." For a moment, Sirius didn't look too happy.

"Something wrong with that company?"

Sirius hesitated. "Probably not ... We've got some complaints, but then, considering the number of passengers they handle each day, it's nothing unusual. Anyway, I don't see a reason not to travel with them."

"Anything particular?"

"No - I can't recognize a pattern, or not yet. That's what I'm still working on and what I'll get only with more routine: seeing the pattern behind the reports. You get a crazy complaint, and nine times out of ten it's really nonsense, while the tenth - an experienced cop can smell what's wrong with the tenth, and I still have to get practice for my nose."

"Crazy reports?" This time, Harry's lack of comprehension was real. "Like what?"

"All kinds of things - lost owls, for example."

Harry shrugged. "Doesn't tell me anything."

"Me neither, that's what I said. By the way, I was quite serious about your snake - she's better than Veritaserum, especially because we're not allowed to use it. Don't be surprised if I contact you for a counsel - and then, I really have to appoint you first."

Harry felt thrilled. "Any time, once I'm back. From Squad to Squad, that sounds good."

Sirius turned to Ginny. "How is it for you, with that snake around?"

Ginny giggled. "It's okay - but you must be careful what to say: each time I try to tweak my answers a bit, she tells Harry."

Sirius laughed. "I can imagine - always honest's a bit too much."

A squawk came through a horn on Sirius' desk. "Chief?"

He bent forward. "Yes?"

Harry didn't understand much from Belinda's words. Then Sirius looked up. "Harry, Ginny - can we finish? Someone's waiting for me."

They said goodbye to him, then were guided directly to the outside. Obviously, the visitor was waiting with Belinda, and Sirius didn't want them to meet.

---

Walking back to the exit, Ginny turned at Harry. "This is - "

He stopped her. "Wait until we're outside. These walls ..."

"Yes - you're right."

Back on the street, they looked for the closest ice cream parlour, where they sat down under a large umbrella. Harry examined at the card, then looked at Ginny. "Okay - what's your choice?"

She chose a very small cup.

"C'mon, aim a little higher! This is your last opportunity for a while."

Ginny seemed a bit embarrassed. "This should be my turn to treat you - except I can't. Erm, Mum hasn't changed yet the pocket money rules yet. Ron's better off."

"You mean, with his job?"

She nodded. "I looked for a job myself, but no luck."

The waitress appeared. Harry ordered two Caribbean Crowns - chocolate, fruit, cream, a dash of liquor, and far away from what Ginny had said.

She smiled. "Thank you - although you shouldn't do that."

He looked at her sternly. "You know that I bear a Giant's life in my heart?"

"Yes - Lleyrin. Why?"

"Don't you know? It's very impolite to tell a Giant what to do, or not to do."

"Oh - sorry, I wasn't aware. It won't happen again."

"The Japanese have something similar - except, if that book's right, they take every opportunity to give themselves another obligation. They call it 'on', but otherwise it's the same what I know as an ob. The Giants are a bit more flexible - to create an ob, it must be something serious, like, um ..."

"... saving someone's life," helped Ginny.

"Yes." He glanced at her, and had the feeling she was teasing him and her remark had been a hidden reminder of a scene deep in the dungeons of Hogwarts, several years ago.

The waitress arrived with their cups and wanted to have money right on the spot. So close to the Ministry, high prices as well as low ethic standards of the clients sitting outside seemed to be common practice.

Ginny watched Harry counting the coins. The embarrassment was back on her face.

He saw it. "Please, it's just an ice cup - I didn't even save you from starving."

She laughed. "You're right; I'm too sensitive."

"It's in the family." He told her the story of his negotiations with Ron about the present for Fleur, raising her spirit enough so she could relish the Caribbean Crown adequately.

Harry was trying to find a way to pass some money from his pockets to Ginny's, fully aware that a simple present would be rejected. Then he had an idea. "I know a job for you."

"Really?"

"I need someone to handle my mail while I'm off."

"Yeah, that's definitely hard work - now that you're living with us, and Sirius around the corner - "

"There's enough left: Cho, Almyra, Hermione, Fleur, Marie-Christine - "

Ginny grinned. "Nice collection, Harry."

" - people at Hogwarts, and maybe others. You know, like a secretary - while I'm in Japan, I'm supposed to avoid any interaction with the outside. So you have to read them, answer them - "

"Cho's letters too?"

"I trust your sense of decency. If you're the one handling them, I know nobody else is."

This argument seemed convincingly enough.

"So - altogether, I think it's worth a galleon per day, isn't it?"

Ginny's eyes were shining. "Not really - but I've been told not to tell you what to do ... Okay, we have a deal."

He counted out thirty galleons. "The rest is for paying the owls - remember, double fee when it's Hedwig."

Ginny beamed. "Now I can treat you with a soda - this stuff makes me thirsty."

"Okay - but not here, it's a waste of - "

"Here!!"

The soda arrived - not as big as that from Sirius' refrigerator, not as cold either. They glanced at each other, then laughed. A moment later, Ginny said, "Harry - your godfather looked great. And his secretary ..."

"... sees him outside the office," finished Harry.

"You think so?"

"Well, I mean - Sirius couldn't have been more specific without - er, saying it aloud, could he?"

Ginny giggled. "No, probably not. But then, why did the woman start flirting with you the moment you came in?"

"Did she? I thought she was teasing me, the way she spoke."

"The way she looked at you ..." Ginny flushed slightly. "Remember our conversation from yesterday - about, er, teachers the proper age? She would have been the proper age."

Harry stared at her, then laughed. "Maybe - only I don't think Sirius needs my help in that field."

"Nor mine, for that matter. What a pity."

For a second, Harry felt speechless. Then he asked, "Are you suffering from too much ice and soda?"

"Erm - no, not really. The thought had crossed my mind before."

"You shouldn't think all the time about - "

Ginny saved him from finishing the sentence. "Why not? And besides - tell me how."